


To Be Alive

by warm_nostalgia



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awesome Sally Donovan, Character Death, Coffee, Crying, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hugs, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kink Meme, Major Character Undeath, No Slash, Not Really Character Death, Sad Sherlock, Ugh, it's 4 am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:51:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1941807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warm_nostalgia/pseuds/warm_nostalgia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt fill from the kink meme, again. Prompt inside.</p><p> </p><p>∆•∆•∆•∆•∆•∆•∆•∆</p><p>“Don't. Not now. Not ever. Don't tell me things will be okay,” Sherlock retorted immediately, fury in his hoarse voice.</p><p>Greg and Sally both blinked at him, and the inspector's hand dropped to his side. “Don't say...” </p><p>“He's dead. John is dead.”</p><p>∆•∆•∆•∆•∆•∆•∆•∆</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Alive

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was:
> 
> 'Sherlock starts crying in front of Donovan
> 
> Yep. That's all I want. Context is completely up to the filler. I can just imagine how horrified he would be with himself, and how confused Donovan would be about how to respond.'
> 
> I may have not completely hit home on this one, but I tried!

_When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability..._

_To be alive is to be vulnerable._

> **_-Madeleine L'Engle_ **

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you Sherlock Holmes?”

 

Donovan and Lestrade both looked up from their cold coffees. Near them was Sherlock, who had stopped his frantic pacing to nod at the doctor.

 

The doctor paused to check his clipboard, expression fighting to stay neutral. “Harriet Watson is still not here, then?”

 

“No,” Sherlock responded.

 

“Right. I'm Doctor Crawford, John's doctor, as you probably guessed. Come with me a moment?” The man nodded toward a private room, one with couches and chairs and a tiny table with pamphlets, and Sherlock tensed up. Donovan could see him swallow and fist his hands into his sides as he followed silently.

 

“Jesus Christ, I hope...” Greg's sentence went unfinished, and Sally blinked a moment. Her stomach turned.

 

“You don't think...”

 

“I don't know. Maybe John's just in critical condition, or –“

 

“I hope so. Watson's a good man,” Sally replied, hands trembling around the styrofoam cup as she shook her head.

 

An uncomfortable, horrible silence penetrated the air as they waited, neither glancing at the room Sherlock was in with the doctor.

 

Minutes later, Sherlock retreated, looking like he'd been caught in a hurricane. His eyes and nose were red with what could be assumed as the action of suppressed crying, and his knuckles were white and clenched again as he sat hard on a chair, a seat between him and Lestrade.

 

“Sherlock,” Greg tried after a full minute of more silence, and hesitantly reached a hand.  


 

 _“Don't._ Not now. Not ever. Don't tell me things will be okay,” Sherlock retorted immediately, fury in his hoarse voice.

 

Greg and Sally both blinked at him, and the inspector's hand dropped to his side. “Don't say...”

 

“He's _dead._ John is dead.”

 

“Oh my God,” the detective inspector breathed out, and stared at the floor almost incredulously. “Shit.” A hand, shaking with trepidation, ran through his hair.

 

Sally ducked her head, something spinning awful in her system, when another doctor stumbled out of John's room, covered in blood, and called to the original doctor who'd spoken to Sherlock.

 

“Doctor Crawford, the patient's revived himself. The pulse is faint, but the –“

 

Doctor Crawford took off before the other finished speaking, into the room, and Sherlock jumped from his seat.

 

Lestrade quickly apprehended him by the wrist. “Sherlock, stay here.”

 

“He's not – John – _John._ Oh my God...”

 

“Sit down, calm down, please, Sherlock. You'll only distract them if you go in!”

 

Sergeant Donovan was surprised to see Holmes take orders for once, but felt absolutely no pleasure in it as the consulting detective sunk to the seat and shrunk in on himself. She stood up and left for the canteen, shaken.

 

Two minutes later when she returned, she saw a sight she'd never think she'd see.

 

Sherlock had his head in his hands, and Sally approached him, stooping down to his level at the chair.

 

“Holmes.”

 

Not “freak” this time. Not “psychopath.” Of course not. She wasn't that cruel.

 

Sally was about to call him again before Sherlock lifted his head. He was swiping tears off his chin and rubbed at his nose, eyeing her carefully.

 

He was _crying._

 

Sergeant Donovan didn't comment on it, even as another tear slid down his face after he'd blinked his eyes a few times. Instead, she pushed a new, steaming cup of coffee toward Sherlock, who took it with a confused expression.

 

“Black. Two sugars. I think you need it more than I do,” she responded. Standing up, she turned and headed back to her seat, then pulled out her phone to look busy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“So.”

 

A pause. “ _So._ ”

 

“I'm...glad you're okay.”

 

“Yeah. Thanks. Me too.” John shoved his hands into his jean pockets (no more bloody scratchy hospital gowns, thank you very much) and waved at a nurse as he and Sherlock headed out.

 

“Uh, Greg told me that you took it pretty hard.”

 

Sherlock bristled and stared straight ahead. “I thought you were dead.”

 

“Right. Of course. Sorry.”

 

“Don't apologize.”

 

John shrunk. “Right.”

 

A stretch of quiet as they made for the doors.

 

“In front of Sally, though.” John smiled, just a little, and nudged Sherlock with his elbow. “You cried in front of Sally.”

 

Sherlock flushed. “Shut up.”

 

“Oi, I'm teasing. Come here.” In a moment, John pulled Sherlock in for a hug. “It's all right now.”

 

“I know that!” Sherlock mumbled into John's neck, shifting awkwardly in the hug. They _never_ hugged, however best-of-friends they were. “Let go. I don't need this in order to know you're alive.”

 

“'Course you do.” John tightened his arms and patted Sherlock's back.

 

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes, finally hugging John back as well. “All right, all right, you insatiable... _teddy bear_.”

 

John drew back quickly and laughed, heading out the revolving doors. Sherlock shook his head with a smile, simply relieved to have his friend another day, and followed him outside.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed. I've never written for Sally, but I do like her character. 'Fraid it ended up being too Sherlock POV :(  
> Comments would make my 4 A.M.!


End file.
